


Gone Fowl

by Druddigonite



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Gen, Turtleduck(s), Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck, no beta we post our first drafts like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-10-29 11:39:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17807315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Druddigonite/pseuds/Druddigonite
Summary: In which Zuko turns into a turtleduck.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written as an impromptu drabble over the course of one hour, so don't expect it to be good. 
> 
> Takes place in the middle of Season 1.

Zuko clawed at the folds of cloth that were suddenly too big to fit on his body and instead wrapped around him in suffocating layers. It shifted, grating at his face, and he reached out with a thrust of his arm to firebend it away. But nothing came out—instead, he found himself unable to gather a fist; too sharp nails snagged on the fabric, which lurched towards him when he pulled back. 

Damn the Avatar. He had encountered him and his barbaric companions again in the Earth Kingdom, and seizes the opportunity to capture him. The fight had been turning out well; the girl was a waterbender, yes, but she was hardly a master of her element, and her brother was absolutely atrocious with his primitive club. The Avatar was a pacifist—he’d known that—wouldn’t strike back. All he needed was one opening: hit, grab, hold a fire dagger to his neck, and demand the barbarians drop their weapons or else. 

But suddenly the bald kid started glowing, and it was all Zuko could do to back away - he’d researched enough about the Avatar State to know it was not to be trifled with. It was too late, however; a stray ray of light clipped him in the leg, and suddenly he felt himself shrinking, his clothes folding inwards as his body hit the ground. 

Outside his desperate scramblings there was no sound, but Zuko knew better to think that the group had just left. He yanked at the snagged clothing, ripping a huge gash in the fabric but being too panicked to care. 

“Let me go!” Zuko snarled, though his voice emerged not as its normal rasping baritone but as a high pitched honk. He felt so trapped, so desperate. It was getting hard to breathe in here. “Get me out of here!” 

There were footsteps, shifting, and the clothes were unceremoniously yanked away from Zuko’s face. He took a deep breath of the outside air (it smelled of damp grass and morning rain) before noticing a face of a certain waterbending girl looking at him. 

He quailed. 

The girl’s face was _huge_ , and either she suddenly grew fifty meters or Zuko had shrunk a lot more than he thought he had. He tried to pull off a warning lunge when her hand extended toward him, but she dodged easily. Zuko felt a strange kind of pressure on his back and sides and suddenly he was lifted into the air, dangling as the girl held effortlessly held him with her hands. 

He looked into her eyes; she was looking at him with not anger or hatred, but some kind of mushy softness that made his insides curdle. 

“Aww, Aang look!” She said in a high-pitched squeal that made Zuko want to throw up, “You turned Zuko into a turtleduck!” 

Zuko blanched, then quickly craned his neck to take a look. The strange pressure on his back was the waterbender’s hand, gripping on the dome of an earthy green shell. The finger he had accidentally snagged on his clothes was actually the tip of a blunted claw. From the looks of his legs and underbelly, he wasn’t even a full grown turtleduck; there were still tufts of fledgling down on his feathered legs. 

There was a male laugh to his right, and he extended his neck to see the Water Tribe boy striding up to him, a huge grip splitting his face. 

“To be honest, I think he’s much better this way.” Before Zuko could react (he was still getting used to his new body, after all), the other Water Tribe savage—he nonbender—had his fingers on his head and was patting him, carding through his down. Despite his usual reluctance for contact, Zuko was ashamed to realize that his new body _liked_ the touch. 

No. No no no. This could not be happening. He frantically started paddling his four (webbed) legs, but found himself only treading air. The nonbender laughed louder, and even the normally serious waterbender joined in the fray. 

“Stop!” 

Zuko barely managed to pinpoint the Avatar’s voice before he was wrenched away from her with enough force to give him a whiplash. He found himself face to face with the kid he was supposed to capture, who stared at him with his face scrunched up in worry. “Did I do this to you?” he murmured. 

“Yes, now let me down!” Zuko snapped, but what came out was only an indignant squawk. He resorted to nipping The Avatar’s fingers instead, prompting a surprised yell as the boy finally dropped him. And he was falling, shifting his body in a practiced way so that he would be able to hit the ground running - 

_Thump_

Zuko glared at the towering trio from his position upside-down on his back, legs sticking straight in the air and vulnerable underbelly exposed. The nonbender seemed to be getting an aneurysm for all that laughing, the waterbender was perplexed, but The Avatar appeared downright guilty. 

“I’m really sorry! I didn’t mean to…” Pale hands picked him up again, and Zuko stilled as he resigned himself to the fate of being carried by his enemies for however long they were interested in a prince-turned-waterfowl. “...to turn you into a turtleduck, I swear. There must be a way to reverse this. I’ll help you become a human again, Zuko.” 

“Uh, sorry to burst your bubble, Aang, but it might be better off the leave him this way,” a female voice came from his side. “Think about it. Zuko’s the crown prince of the Fire Nation, and he’s been trying to capture us ever since you came out of that iceberg. He’s a dangerous enemy. By leaving him as a turtleduck, we’re killing two birds with one stone—no pun intended.” 

The Avatar gaped at her. “I can’t just leave him here! He might be eaten!”

“That’s not what Katara meant.” The nonbender had stopped laughing, though he was still wiping tears away from his eyes and giggling while at it. “You do know that saying ‘Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer’, right? All we’re asking is that you keep Zuko by your side, and make sure he doesn’t get hurt or cause any trouble. Momo might even like him.”

The Avatar glanced at Zuko apologetically, and he wondered what the boy saw. A small fluffy turtleduckling no bigger than the size of his hand probably, feathers erratic from the molting process and the earlier escape attempt, no doubt. “Sorry buddy, but it looks like you’ll have to come with us.” 

The sheer mundaneness of it all grated on Zuko’s nerves. “Do I have a choice?” he grumbled. 

He didn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last edited 3/2/19


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told myself that this was just a one-shot but apparently I have no self control so here we are. Also Momo doesn't exist.

“I’m not going to eat weed.” Zuko said, feathers puffed up in distaste. 

“I think you should eat this,” The stupid Water Tribe boy coaxed anyways, because none of the bastards could understand him and Agni how did he get in this mess in the first place. In his hand was a swathe of duckweed, still dripping with pond water or whatever brand of abhorrent muck he pulled those things out from. He shoved the tiny leaves closer to Zuko’s face; Zuko lunged, trying to nip at the Water Tribe peasant’s finger but ending up with a mouth full of soaking, disgusting duckweed. “There you go!” 

Zuko immediately spat it out. He was hacking at the taste of mud on his tongue when a hand reached out and gently stroked his shell. The pressure was gentle, arching from the junction below his neck to his nub of a tail—felt nice actually, like a hug of sorts. 

His second nip met skin. 

“Ow!” He felt much better about himself after the nonbender recoiled, clutching his bleeding finger. (He deserved it, after giggling at him the entire day)

“Hey Sokka,” And there was the Avatar, striding in all nonchalant like Zuko hadn’t been trying to capture him a couple hours ago and blatantly dropping titles. “Mind if I borrow Zuko for a sec?” 

The nonbender huffed. “Be my guest. He somehow still pulls off a sulk as a turtleduck, doesn’t eat his vegetables, and—” at this Zuko does a warning strike, and he snatched his hand back with a glare “—keeps biting me! Be careful where you put your hands, Aang, or Zuko might take them.” 

The Avatar watched his friend leave. “...But isn’t Zuko the guest?” 

Zuko shook his head in exasperation, easing himself to a sitting position. He was still unused to the bulk of the shell, and his movements were clumsy at best. He glanced at the Avatar warily, waiting for him the start. 

“Well, uh.” The child—Agni, Zuko still couldn’t believe he’d been banished to chase after a child—rubbed his neck nervously. “I don’t know how to turn you back, but I don’t want to leave you here alone either so you’ll probably have to come with us.” 

“You’ve already said that.” Zuko flicked his tail irritably. “Tell me something I don’t know.” 

"You would definitely fit on Appa! He wouldn’t mind, you’re barely any extra weight,” he continued on, oblivious, "You might fall off though, but we can hold you if you promise not to bite.”

Zuko wouldn’t even dignify that with a response. He retracted his limbs into his shell and closed his eyes, letting the Avatar’s babble wash over him. It seemed that he was going to be here for a long time, so he might as well make himself comfortable.

"Ooooo, do you think I can ask Katara to make you a sweater? We’re going to the Northern Water Tribe and if it’s anything like the south I’m going to be freeeezing. Your sweater can be red with flowers and six holes for your head and legs and tail and-”

Zuko jolted. Northern Water Tribe? He pawed at the Avatar’s robes.

"Huh?” The airbender looked down and patted—gah, why did everyone do that?—Zuko’s head affectionately. "You like that? We can even make the flowers fire lilies, Kuzon told me they’re the national flower of the Fire Nation and an aphrodisiac, but I don’t know what aphrodisiac _means_ and whenever I ask Kuzon he just waggles his eyebro-”

Zuko shook his head vehemently. He sat on his haunches and made a series of gestures that hopefully conveyed _a little further back, you imbecile_. 

The Avatar, thankfully, understood. "Oh! The Northern Water tribe, right?” He brightened at Zuko’s nod. "I told Katara you still understood us!”

That earned the airbender a squeaky huff, and he grinned. “Heh, you’re really cute when you pout like tha-ow! That’s my finger you’re biting ZUKO STOP HURTING ME I’M SORRY.”

\-------

_Northern Water Tribe, huh._

It made sense. 

Zuko could’ve continued his unwieldy interrogation of the Avatar if he wanted to, but there was very little point when he could simply deduce the rest. The Avatar was an overpowered preteen with bending powers and a happy-go-lucky personality that resembled Ty Lee—if Ty Lee was male and a bald monk, that is. It was apparent during his run-in’s with Zuko’s crew that he could only bend air and water, the latter much less proficient than the former. He had the waterbender, but her bending too seemed mediocre. 

It wasn’t hard to come to the conclusion that Aang was seeking a stronger waterbender, a _master_ , to practice his budding waterbending skills. In that case, the Northern Water Tribe was ideal: a heavily fortified base with an extensive military and people who would take him in without a second thought. 

_Just like they did with you._

Zuko skidded to a halt from where he was pacing miniature trenches into the dirt, exhaling quietly but forcefully. Dusk was starting to set in now; in the distance, he could see three small figures highlighted by the waning sunset. They were huddled around a campfire—a small flickering thing that danced in the dark. The Avatar appeared to be doing air shenanigans, and Katara was warming some kind of liquid over their fire with her bending. The non-bender said something, his wolf-tail bobbing in sync with his inflection, and all three burst out laughing. 

Zuko tried to pull at the flames, feel the thrum of energy, of the heat deep within, but there was nothing. He’d lost his firebending. 

Specks of sand clung uncomfortably as he laid down in a patch of clovers. Beneath the carapace plating, hiis stomach growled loud enough to make him wince. Zuko reluctantly nibbled on one of the leaves. They tasted surprisingly okay, though he suspected it was his waterfowl brain talking.

One perk of being a turtleduck was that he became more attuned to the environment around him. Right now the sensitive pads on his feet were picking up of a person drawing near. One of the three was approaching him. Zuko pretended not to notice, hoping his mottling would camouflage him in the foliage.

"Eat.”

A wooden bowl landed beside him, startling him badly and sending a couple feathers flying. Above him, the waterbender watched with pursed lips as he peered over the rim of the bowl. 

Wild carrot-tubers floated around in a watery soup, still steaming from the fire. There was no meat, but that was fine—he doubted his stomach could handle it. He dipped his bill in the soup and took a tentative sip before realizing that he had company. The waterbender was looming over him, her figure silhouetted against shadows. Ignoring the twinges of his stomach, Zuko sat back and leered.

Her eyes narrowed. "Aang told me you understand him, and that you still have an attitude problem.”

So? Zuko attempted to shrug. The jab stung—he didn’t have an _attitude problem_ , thank you very much—but it wasn’t his fault she assumed the transformation stunted his mental capabilities and decided to coo.

"Don’t you dare think your turning into a turtleduck is going to work; I’m not buying into your act. Sokka thinks he can handle you and Aang trusts everybody, but I remember what you firebenders did to my tribe.” His soup began vibrating violently, droplets arcing out of the bowl. As abruptly as it started it stopped, and the waterbender’s fists clenched. “Don’t take this as an act of charity—Aang wants turn you back and he can’t have you starving along the way.”

She pivoted around. “You are in our debt; don’t forget it, firebender.” 

“As if you don’t owe me anything for turning me into a damned turtleduck!” Zuko fired at her retreating back, the aftertaste of soup souring on his tongue. “As if I wanted to be in this mess in the first place!” 

That’s how it all started, right? Not just a slip of The Avatar’s spirit powers, but the first time he stepped foot in the war room, the end of the Siege of Ba Sing Se, the scorching summer day his sister was born. His life was spiraling out of control, always had been, and he was just a sitting turtleduck.

\-------

Night fell, the moon a bright gibbous hung over star-speckled skies. The Avatar and his friends were now dozing in their sleeping bags, catching some much-needed hours before they’d slip off into the sky again. Zuko was awake.

It was strange to be awake, he thought. Firebenders sought their energy from the sun; it rose to wake them at dawn, then set to bid them goodbye at dusk. A firebender at night was uncoordinated and lethargic. Zuko usually retired to bed the moment the sun vanished from the horizon. 

But now he wasn’t a firebender, not anymore, and his turtleducking body seemed to be more active following nighttime. He vaguely remembered that turtleducks were nocturnal, though domesticated ones could be quickly adjusted to be diurnal. 

The night sky could be very bright, Zuko observed, watching the lights of distant stars flicker. The moon, it seemed, had little dark speckles on its surface. 

Further from camp the tides of a nearby stream ebbed, and Zuko found himself waddling toward the sandy banks, pulled by some sort of calling. The water was cool under his claws, the light of the moon shining enough to cast his reflection on the surface. Upon closer inspection, his shell was not just green also but flecked with ruddy orange and brown, like the colors of an autumn forest, swirling together in an intricate pattern. His plumage was pale yellow-gray, broken up by streaks of darker cream, on his sides and neck and head, and he followed those streaks until they tapered off at his face. 

His eyes were dark, of course, but he could see the spark of an inner flame within them. The left half of his face was unmarred. 

Zuko stared at his reflection for awhile, raising his foot (claw? paw?) to touch his face. The down there was soft and fluffy and unbroken. Bright eyes stared up from still water. 

And then he snarled, his foot crashing down to break the water’s surface. His breath came out in short, hissed breaths as the ensuing waves lapped at his ankles. 

Of course. Of course the _only time when he didn’t have the -damned scar- was when he was cursed to be a turtleduck._ He slashed at the water again and again, hoping that when the rippled cleared that this would all be a dream, he’d be Zuko again, he’d be the honored Prince of the Fire Nation, he’d have his honor back, he’d have his _mother_ back and-

_Splash!_

Zuko spluttered as he surfaced again, limbs flailing at he bobbed in the water. In his rage, he’d accidentally slipped and fallen a couple lengths into the deep part of the stream. His claws slipped uselessly off the river rocks as he scrambled for purchase. 

_Focus, Zuko,_ he heard his uncle say, _Firebending comes from the breath._

He couldn’t firebend but his limitations never stopped him anyway, so Zuko took a big breath and stilled. He was familiar with the paddling motion turtleducks used to swim—had a habit of watching them glide through the pond they had in back the palace—and slowly guided his own limbs into the process. His feet left the safety of the rocks but he no longer needed them, was no longer afraid, as he was afloat without them. He tested his newfound ability by venturing deeper into the stream; the current was stronger there, and if he wanted he could swim away on it, let it lead him away from the Avatar.

But he couldn’t. The Avatar was his best bet to becoming a human again, not to mention the terrible survival rates turtleduckings had in the wild. He’d have to deal with him and his merry band of incompetents until he turned back. 

The water slid easily off Zuko’s feathers when he headed back to camp. There was a bed of coals and kindling in the middle of the clearing, its fire long extinguished. They crunched softly as Zuko curled up in their ashes. 

He closed his eyes and dreamed of smoke, curling up into the starlit skies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For a crack fic, this chapter has a fair amount of angst. Please keep in mind that I have no idea what I'm doing for future updates; I'm still deciding whether to stick to the canon plotline or concoct something else entirely, whether to add romance or leave everything platonic. Suggestions are welcome. 
> 
> But yeah. Leave a comment or kudos or something, they feed my ego.


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